


Back in Black and Blue

by binz, shiplizard



Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Avengers Movies Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon, Always A Cis-Identified Different Gender, Barbara Banner, Bites & Bruises, Community: kink_bingo, F/F, Multi, Rule 63, Threesome - F/F/M, Toni Stark - Freeform, Trust Issues, Virgil 'Pepper' Potts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-01
Updated: 2012-10-01
Packaged: 2017-11-15 10:08:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/526120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/binz/pseuds/binz, https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiplizard/pseuds/shiplizard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What's black and blue and red and gold and green all over? Toni Stark's thing for bruises and big beautiful rage monsters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Back in Black and Blue

Barb is in the middle of analysing the latest results of the long-term gamma radiation exposure test she’s been running on the salvaged Chitauri tech when the elevator whirrs open and startles her attention away from the computer. Toni Stark barges into the lab-- if you can barge into a space you legally own and designed from the ground up-- Pepper Potts behind her. Toni’s got only a moderately grumpy look on; the press conference didn’t go that badly, then, but she’s still going to complain about it at length. And whine about Barb not going, but the interviewer only wanted Captain Rogers and Toni. 

Nobody’s all that interested in Barb; she keeps it that way. One dry lecture about gamma radiation is enough for most news outlets. They’re interested in The Other Woman, of course, but nobody wants _her_ in a news studio. And frankly, _she_ doesn’t want the interest either, so keeping her away is best for all involved; it’s one of the few things Barb and Hulk are in complete agreement on. 

“So _that’s_ over,” Toni says, and pulls off her shirt as soon as she’s out of the elevator, throwing the silk blouse over her shoulder like a crumpled fast food wrapper. “I don’t actually know why they even invited me when they had Captain Stepford, she’s obviously got all the right answers and men do love a nice, polite natural blond--” 

Pepper is a beat behind her, snatching the shirt out of the air and stuffing a wadded up white sleeveless shirt into her absently outstretched hand. Toni drags it over her shoulders in short, jerky movements, not breaking her verbal stride, and reaches back for a hair-tie that Pepper has ready, jerking her TV-ready hair into a quick, lopsided ponytail. Pepper smiles at Barb, a quick, professional-grade quirk of his lips that reaches all the way up to his eyes, and then shakes his head longsufferingly.

Barb realizes that she’s staring at Toni’s chest-- not at the white disk glowing through the cotton, but below it, where the bruises had been-- and gives an awkward little grimace back. 

“I’m getting pizza,” Pepper inserts discretely, somewhere between the ‘got more respect at the playboy interview’ and ‘Romanov weaseled out because he is a goddamn redhaired weasel, not you, Pepper, you’re a fox’ parts of Toni’s rant, and she breaks off with sudden interest. 

“Hey, pizza sounds good. I could eat.” 

“I bet you could. Since you haven’t for at least a day.” Pepper’s voice is mildly scolding, but his face goes warm when he turns to Barb. "Barbara, vegetarian for you?"

“We’ve been busy. Science waits for no man, she’s fine with vegetarian,” Toni says, waving idly. “Barb, what do we have on the Chitauri armor, do we have compositional data yet, have they upgraded since the 40’s?” 

“What happened to your chest?” Barb asks mildly. 

Pepper looks surprised. So does Toni, briefly, and then she frowns, brows knitting up, and then her face lightens to a full-bore ‘dismissing this situation’ smile. “Sparring practice.” 

“She was out. The Other Woman. The last time you guys sparred. Toni, those are fingerprints.” Massive prints, a hand bigger than a dinner plate. Barb’s hands flex, and she wonders if the faint memory of holding a small red and gold figure in her fist is her own morbid imagination or a flicker of The Other Woman. 

“...because we were sparring. Bruises happen. It was fine. Look, this one’s from Tora’s Fucking Hammer.” Toni spins, dragging her shirt up to show a purpling blotch that spreads up her back and disappears under her bra. “And this--” at which point she drops her pants to show a welt centered at the crease of her knee-- “was one of Agent Barton’s percussive arrows. Which reminds me, the suit’s joints could be better; I want to see if we can incorporate vibranium into a flexible form, do we have the composition on the Chitauri stuff yet? Wait--” she holds up a finger. “I asked you that already. You ducked the question.” 

"Pizza," Pepper repeats, and slides back into the elevator in a polite retreat. 

“I didn’t duck it,” Barb says, ignoring his exit, gaze latched to Toni's. A chill is settling into her chest, an old, familiar alarm signal. Fear. Almost mindless. Something stirs in the back of her mind, a wash of green movement. “I re-prioritized. Toni. You have to tell me if the Hulk hurts you.” 

“She didn’t,” Toni says simply, pulling her slacks back up. “It’s a bruise. They happen.” 

Barb can feel Toni's conviction pass over her-- this tide of charisma and the general world-bending assurance of a woman who gets what she wants on a regular basis.

"Okay," she says, giving one of the grimaces that serve her for a smile these days. "Jarvis has the Chitauri data. The gamma radiation tests need at least another thousand hours. I'll forward you a copy of the notes."

"Good. Great. I've got to retool the locking joints on the Mark 7. I'll be down in the shop. The auto-assembly introduced some failure modes I don't like. Grab me when the pizza comes?"

"Sure," Barb says, but Toni's already halfway out the door. She's a woman who expects the world to keep up, pities it at best when it doesn't. "Yeah. I'll do that," she adds, to nobody.

She stares at the door blankly, lets her eyes focus on the brushed metal surface, and tries to separate emotion from impulse from wisdom.

She can separate the rush of peace and optimism she's felt in the past couple months from her actual calculations. She can understand that her new levels of serotonin are due to eating and sleeping on a halfway regular schedule and having non-hostile human interaction, not a harbinger of the future. She understands that the peace she feels can't figure into her plans.

That the Hulk hasn't been tamed by fighting one battle.

So she gets all her notes together and wanders deeper into the lab, not bothering to turn on the lights after her. She wants the sense of insulation the dark brings, the sense of seclusion and quiet-- it’s something she didn’t get much of in the slums of Calcutta and New York hasn’t exactly been better.

"Jarvis?" she says, raising her voice a little. It feels odd to be talking to empty air, still; she usually lets Toni do this for her. No matter how long she crashes in a guest bedroom here, actually talking to Toni’s house seems presumptuous. 

The AI answers promptly, though: "Doctor Banner."

"Can you make a backup copy of my notes and data? And when Toni asks for them, give her my test plan, too."

"Of course, madam."

"Do you have any records of the training sessions last week?" It was under S.H.I.E.L.D observation in an enforced training site, but she has a hunch.

"I have copies of the S.H.I.E.L.D surveillance footage," the AI says crisply, and Barb wonders if she's anthropomorphising too much or if she really hears pride in the faintly digitized voice.

"Virus still in their computers, huh? No, don't answer. Show me the footage."

"Of course, madam. Behind you."

A huge screen lights up behind her, immensely bright in the darkness-- if Barb was shocked by the way US technology culture had grown in a few years, she'd been stunned all the way back to calm acceptance by the way Toni coats everything in technology. A video cues up, clean footage from an upper corner of a big concrete room, dotted with barriers and cover. There are a group of moving figures; she quickly identifies teams of two who are working together against the rest of the scrum.

Team one, S.H.I.E.L.D agents-- Romanov with a modified weapon that's shooting glowing tags instead of bullets, Barton with her bow. Team two, technological elements; Captain Rogers with her shield and Toni in the Mark 7. Team three, heavies. Tora Friggasdottir and The Other Woman. 

It gives her a dip in her stomach to see footage of the Hulk, always a shock to see that face and feel a distant relation, the sideways version of the normal recognition of her face in the mirror.

There's no sound but she sees Tora's mouth open in a cry as she rides Mjolnir into the air and swings it into Toni's back, sparks rising off the Iron Woman suit-- Toni recovers fast, but she's already in the Hulk's reach and a green hand snatches her out of the air.

Barb braces, but the Hulk doesn’t follow through and crush Toni against the nearest surface. She doesn't do anything with the figure in her grip, just holds her like a doll and turns a circle, scowling massively, looking for her next target.

Toni gets an arm free from the absent minded grip and fires one of her hand repulsors-- not at the Hulk but under her, pitting the concrete and bringing the Hulk staggering off balance. Stella's shield comes out of nowhere, smacking into the back of the Hulk's skull. Toni pulls free and jets right at Stella-- ramming her out of the way of one of Barton's shots.

Of course, she could have deflected the arrows instead of tackling the other woman into a wall, but there are issues between Captain America and Iron Woman that are probably going to get worked out this way for a while.

As they untangle and head out after new targets, and Barton gets the Hulk’s attention by shooting at Tora, Barb follows the red and gold. Even from this distance she can see the dents on Toni's armor, the handprint squeezed into the metal. Just a little too much pressure. It could have been more.

"Jarvis, speed it up," Barb says shortly. She realizes her hands are fisted. Watching the Hulk around all these people-- friends-- allies, at least-- it's like watching a horror movie. She's waiting for the shoe to drop. Waiting for things to go wrong, for the Hulk to open up and show her true nature.

Fear. She's afraid, and it opens that door to the back of her brain where it's all green.

 _No. This is your fault. Quiet down._

She breathes through it, all of her relaxation exercises as quick as reflex now. It's easier to watch the video in fast forward, because she's too busy trying to follow the image to imagine what could go wrong.

There's a bright flash on the screen and the action breaks apart--

"Jarvis, stop. Go back ten seconds. Normal speed. Please."

“Of course, Madam.” 

The video blips back and starts again. 

Iron Woman takes an arrow in the knee-joint and the suit sparks brightly, one repulsor flickering enough to throw her sideways. She kills her repulsors and drops. Tora's heading for her with an arm outstretched to catch her, the S.H.I.E.L.D agents are backing up and lowering their weapons, and then a green wall comes between Toni and the camera.

The Hulk carries Iron Woman to the corner of the room, putting her against the wall, boxing her in. They stand there for seconds, nearly a minute. She can't make out Iron Woman's gestures, can't imagine how Toni must have felt to be penned in with her suit malfunctioning-- she must be talking, the Hulk is listening.

Then the Hulk steps back and looks around in confusion, maybe only registering now that Smash time is over. The Normal-sized Avengers cluster on Toni, and she pulls her helmet off and grins at them, says something and waves off their concern.

"Stop the playback." Barb's not much for reading lips, definitely not from this distance. "Is this the highest resolution you have?"

"I regret so, madam. I am not in control of the quality of S.H.I.E.L.D's surveillance equipment." Jarvis sounds disapproving.

She flexes her hands a few times, takes a deep breath. "You're in the suit, aren't you? Do you record audio? Visual?"

"That data is restricted, madam."

"Vital signs?"

"That data is restricted, madam."

Barb becomes uncomfortably aware that she's being watched. She turns around and doesn't startle when she sees Toni leaning against a table.

"Go ahead and give Barbara Banner access to suit reads and feeds, Jarvis," Toni says. "Archived and future."

"Very good, Miss Stark."

"Thought you were working on the suit," Barb points out, feeling her shoulders relaxing and her heartbeat calm a little. Toni is a calming element. Barb's not sure how, since she's brash, abrasive, aggressive, confrontational-- but competent, reassuringly always in control. 

"I was, until Jarvis let me know about your little data dump. I, uh." Toni clears her throat. "I was wondering if you were tidying up before you made a move. Like going off the grid again."

"It's a possibility," Barb admits.

"I didn't want this to be an issue." ...Toni’s embarrassed. Barb hadn't realized she was capable. "But, uh. Yeah. You should watch the suit feed, first. From the integrity failure, Jarvis."

The feed on the big monitor switches suddenly to another perspective-- the view out of Toni's helmet, bordered and overlaid with readouts.. It takes a few seconds to identify them all, and she's reminded-- again-- how fast Stark's mind must work to be able to process this kind of information and think tactically at the same time. There's audio, now, the practice battle loud and angry, and then a dull, loud metal sound and the crackle of static

 _Suit integrity at thirty percent,_ Jarvis' recorded voice announces, as a graph on the side of the display lights up with alarms.

 _"I know, dammit,"_ Recorded-Toni snaps, her voice amplified and close, the video showing the world rushing upwards as she starts to fall.

 _"Cease fire,"_ Romanov is yelling, battle-noise changing to confusion, and then the Hulk surges into view and Toni's freefall changes to a sideways flight as they clear the length of the room together. The video shakes with the landing, and the audio picks up Toni sucking in a deep breath and letting it out. 

_"Thanks, biggun,"_ she says out loud. The Hulk sets her down-- very carefully, for the Hulk, Barb can see that from this angle.

 _"Metal friend break,"_ the Hulk rumbles; her voice makes Barb's hair stand on end. It sounds like hers. Just much deeper, much louder. It triggers memories; they're distant, alien. And green.

 _"What's a little structural integrity between friends? Give me a second. I have to get this plate open before the interlocking mechanisms fuse,"_ Toni complains, the video swinging down to the damaged joint as she looks down; her hands come into frame as she briskly disassembles the damaged pieces, pulls the back of her leg armor off, the red panel pitted and black. _"Jeeze. Introduce a little autonomous assembly and everything gets fussy. I hate that. Don't you, biggun?"_

Hulk probably has no idea what she's talking about, but she makes a low, grating sound, and Toni looks up, confronting Barb with the grinning, blunt-toothed face of her other self, laughing. Seen from this angle, the Hulk looks less like she's looming and more like she's providing cover for Toni. Funny how perspective changes things.

 _"Thank god I have you around. Nobody else gets my jokes,"_ Toni goes on unconcerned, looking back down. It makes Barb twitch. You have to keep your eyes on the Hulk, she’ll turn on you, she’s faster than you think--

_"Hulk like metal friend."_

_"Metal friend thinks you're pretty great too, biggun."_ Toni’s voice is fond. She looks up; her gauntleted hand comes into view again, and she reaches out one finger to beep the Hulk's nose.

Barb stares at the screen as the Hulk crosses her eyes to look at the finger, making Toni chuckle. And the Hulk... doesn’t react to being laughed at. She’s registering the difference between cruelty and social behavior. Barb can see it. She can... remember. 

Then the screen fills with a green hand-- Barb tenses-- and the Hulk very gently beeps the center of the Iron Woman helmet, her finger not quite as big around as Barb’s wrist. The visual display shakes, a tiny aftershock, but it’s as gentle as a tremor, like the shiver running up Barb’s spine.

 _“Oh, wow, biggun. You must be popular with the ladies. You know what they say about women with big hands, right?”_ Toni asks nonsensically, a grin in her voice. 

The Hulk makes a puzzled sound.

 _”Big gloves.”_

God, Barb hopes the Hulk doesn’t understand that, and she cringes through another deep laugh, as the sounds of the rest of their teammates start to filter into the secluded little moment.

_"All right, here they come to make sure I'm dead. Work, work work, all the time. Rain check, gorgeous, you and me."_

"And scene," Toni says. "Jarvis, cut the feed. Thanks."

Barb has her hand up to cover her nose; she pulls it down as soon as she realizes.

"So, uh--"

"Toni. You were _flirting with the Hulk_. Why were you--"

"Oh, crap, Barb." The other woman's voice goes sardonic, discomfort forced down under big jovial sarcasm. "Fury didn't tell me we got you from an alternate universe where I don't make amazingly bad personal decisions on a regular basis. My bad."

"Knock it off," Barb sighs. "What are you doing?"

"Just being friendly. We're friends, the big gal and me. She saved my life, Barb. You saved my life."

"I didn’t do anything. I'm not in control of--"

"Maybe not consciously, but you're _there_. Don't you ever take a step back and get a little smug about how smart she is? The most primal, angry part of you and she can be _careful_ and _personable_ and _really intelligent_ in a scary strategic kind of way. What does that say about you, Barb?" 

Toni steps into her space, a strange worry in her eyes, something Barb hasn't ever seen before. Like the embarrassment: this is a night just full of revelations. 

"So don't go. Don't go off the grid again. Stay around even if you opt out of Fury's little Fight Club. Barb. Babe. I need you. The rest of these people, they're barely post-verbal, yeah, Blondilocks is great to have at a party and Anatoly has good booze, but Captain Stepford is a giant bore and god, Barton just sits around in high places but your work on gamma radiation and generalized radiation containment is genuinely outstanding and you and me, we can change _everything_ together."

Toni does impassioned with about as much grace as a cat in a shower. Barb can see the intensity of it, and how much it embarasses Stark to bare that much of herself, how unused she is to being genuine.

"It's okay,” Barb says, uncomfortable in the face of it.

Toni jerks her chin at her, not satisfied with vague reassurance, not going to give it up until she gets nice concrete data.

"It's okay. I won't vanish in the night." Barb shakes her head. "Can I see your chest again?"

Toni pulls up her shirt, without even a half-hearted joke about Barb just wanting to see her tits; her face is worryingly serious. There are more bruises, up close, most of them light, but it's obvious that she still feels impacts in the suit. Barb focuses on the hand-print around her chest-- fingertips, no palm. The arc reactor lights it up for her and at the same time casts the shadow of Toni’s breasts over it, obscuring the details.

"When she felt the suit give she backed off instantly. I've got the readouts to prove it," Toni says, “Which was a good practical test of just what it can take, the stress points that go first--” and then, “Oh, hey. So that's-- Barb, maybe you shouldn't do that--" as Barb skims her fingers over the discolored skin. "Unless, hey, you like the rough stuff, in which case, why don't you come up to my place and see my schematics? Oh, wait, you live at my place, not that I’m implying schematic-viewing is required--"

Barb rolls her eyes; she's used to Toni's joking flirtations with absolutely everyone. She doesn't think much of it, busy laying her hand flat across Toni's ribcage to see how her fingers completely fail to be as large as the Hulk's. Strange, worrying thought. She cocks a brow, gives a grimace, and cuts Toni off: "It’s okay. It’s fine. Barb like metal friend."

Toni's expression changes in a second, going so hot and intense Barb is surprised that she can't feel it wash over her like desert air, that it doesn't set off the climate detectors around the computer equipment.

God, they haven't been joking at all, have they, not since they first met and Toni greeted her with a low voltage shock and intense, overwhelming interest. 

She leans in to kiss Toni awkwardly and without thinking, and that's all the permission Stark needs to drag her backwards until she's up against a table and Barb's up against her-- she shimmies up onto the flat surface and throws her legs around Barb, who desperately tries to dissociate just a little from the sudden hormonal flood, only to run in smack into a faint flashback of red plating under her fingertips and the knowledge that every part of her does, in fact, like 'metal friend'. 

It’s there now, the current of interest, the warning signs she recognizes from her last time with Betty. Toni flings her shirt off, and Barb can see all the marks, the new bruises and the older shrapnel-scars that pit the center of Toni’s chest and ridge the smooth skin of her breasts around the arc reactor; she wants to lick them, she wants her handprint on that smooth skin with no plating between them. Toni’s voice teasing ‘rough stuff’ comes back to her and leaves her feeling too small in her skin, desperately eager in so many ways, and one of them is terrifying, close, threatening at a cellular level to become the biggest, strongest one here. 

"We shouldn’t-- sometimes she comes out during--"

Toni makes a sound, without syllables or even consonants, somehow still dirty enough to be banned internationally.

"Toni!"

"No, I know," Toni groans, sucking on her neck. "I wouldn't. Not if you aren't okay with it. Controlled circumstances. Safety equipment. But I'd like you to consider the possibility."

"Stark, you're--" she tries to disengage Toni's legs from her hips but they're warm, muscular, with this artistic curve under the slacks and she finds herself just running her hands up them, fingers light behind the knee where she knows the arrow impacted-- her grip skimming up to the ribcage where her hand fits into the center of that handprint, feeling Toni squirm as if the sensation does something for her. As if she wants all the sore spots prodded at and touched and exposed. 

"Bad personal decisions, Barb, they're a tradition, they work for me. _Yes._ Right there--" as Barb accidentally shifts her grip and her hand presses into the mark that Mjolnir left through the armor. 

Light spills over them, the smell of grease and cheese, and Pepper's standing in the doorway holding a pizza box.

"Oh," he says.

"Oh," Barb says.

"Hey, hottie," Toni says, throwing him a grin. "We're doing science."

"I can see that." His face settles into a polite, knowing smile. "You still need to eat."

"Ten minutes." Toni buries her face in Barb's hair.

"She's a guest, Toni," Pepper scolds. "Twenty." He backs into the elevator again and it dings shut.

Toni moves in to kiss Barb again and comes up short at her expression-- Barb knows she looks horrified, mortified, ashamed, all of these emotions she can’t disentangle from right now. It feels dangerous. 

“Ah,” Toni says, and Barb can see her reprocess in that way she has to so often, when the world hasn’t kept up with her. “Pep and I have an open relationship. I can see now that that should have been made clear, before, that’s my bad.” 

“Shut up,” Barb whispers, and tries to make her do so via kiss. Toni stops her. 

“Babe. Your eyes.” 

She can feel it happening. She’s being careless. 

“Do we need to stop?” Toni asks. 

“I-- need a second.” Before she can even answer that question, she has to step back from these emotions and separate out her adrenal response before the Hulk can ride it out into the world-- 

Toni’s hand settles carefully on her face. “We’re all right, Barb.” Her voice is deliberate, controlled, calming. Toni is matching her slow breaths, falling into synch with her. It helps. 

Toni doesn’t kiss her again until her heart rate has settled and her face has slackened out; Barb waits a cautious second, until she’s sure that the Hulk isn’t going to make another shot for control. 

There’s something quieter than need and violence lurking in her backbrain. She recognizes it as trust, and consciously, deliberately decides to let the fear go for a while. 

 

Sex with Toni is everything she would have expected. Energetic. Inspired. Loud. Toni likes to be held down, especially when she’s getting head, and she likes her hair pulled when she’s giving it. She’s all about marks, getting, not giving, Barb finds out fast that biting is a quick way to her heart.

Toni had gotten An Idea around orgasm number five and disappeared down into the shop, and Barb had eaten pizza and stared blankly at the wall-- it’s been a very long time since the last time she orgasmed in company, or at all-- until Toni came back up with something sleek, metallic, and vibrating, and they’d finished the pizza and gone another few rounds because, as Toni said, the new prototype needed durability testing in the field. 

Now Barb is showering-- alone, by request-- in Toni’s massive master bathroom, and still staring blankly at the wall. She can’t be sure yet if this feels like a good thing because it is or because every chemical receptor in her brain is flooded with blissful chemicals that make everything seem like a good idea, especially things involving Toni Stark. 

She fumbles the water off and dries off with a towel the size of a small blanket, wrapping it around her when she heads out to find her clothes. She’s not surprised to see Toni asleep in bed. A little surprised to see Pepper beside her, but he’s not asleep: he sits up and waves her closer. 

“I put your stuff in the laundry,” he whispers. “You can take one of Toni’s robes if you’re going back to your room. But we’d like you to stay? You can borrow some of my sleep pants.” He sees the dubious look on her face. “They’re big on me. I put them on the bureau.” 

She’s always been on the stocky side and she’s been eating a lot now that there’s a lot to eat; she appreciates that Pepper isn’t dancing around the realities of the situation-- the slender hipped jerk-- even if the situation itself is unfathomable to her. 

“...do you get off on her being with other women?” 

“Only when I’m invited.” 

“This doesn’t bother you-?” 

A headshake; his face is open, guileless in the shadows. “I’d like an invite. But that’s up to you. And if you stay with us, it doesn’t obligate you. Toni wouldn’t do that.” A fond look down at the sleeping woman. “We both just... like you.” 

Barbara goes for the sleep pants. They do fit; they must hang like a tent on Pepper’s trim waist and toned legs, and she tells him so. He smiles. “This is why Toni doesn’t do clothes for Christmas anymore.” 

Of course. 

She stands by the bureau for a while; it’s a big room, it gives her distance from the bed, the couple in the bed. Toni stirs in her sleep and pure white light diffuses through the room. How do you get used to sleeping with the source of so much figurative and literal power?

Decouple. Dissociate. 

Relationships are dangerous for her even in their most vanilla flavor, and even before the Hulk this kind of open relationship, however carefully and faithfully negotiated, was a kind of dynamite she didn’t ever plan to play with. She believes that they negotiated this; that Pepper means it, that he doesn’t intend ever to be jealous or covetous. She knows she can’t stay and not want something out of it; can’t be-- (well, that’s the joke, isn’t it)-- The Other Woman. Toni made offers and Barb can’t deny that she wants what’s on the table.

Pepper’s watching her, eyes half-lidded slits in the nightlight of the arc reactor, not trying to hide it. She likes him. He’s polite, capable, friendly, but still very much a stranger to her. She’d like to know him better, but this wasn’t how she had envisioned that happening. And she absolutely doesn’t trust him with her mental state in a relationship right now. 

But then there’s the woman next to him. 

And she trusts Toni. She can’t not.

She still isn’t sure if it’s a good idea as she slips into bed next to Toni; Pepper scoots to the side to give them room, but it’s barely necessary. This bed isn’t King sized. Emperor, possibly. She’s lived in rooms smaller than this expanse of memory foam. 

Toni rolls over into the new source of warmth; Pepper spoons up behind her. Barb shuts her eyes, and lets go of her fear long enough to fall asleep.


End file.
